Where the Grass is Greener
by poestheblackcat
Summary: Tina Ridgeway and Annabeth Chase as twin sisters. Sometimes Tina envies Annabeth's perfect life. Written after watching only the pilot of Monday Mornings - but all of Close to Home - so it may contain some inaccuracies.


Summary: Tina Ridgeway and Annabeth Chase as twin sisters. Sometimes Tina envies Annabeth's perfect life. Written after watching only the pilot of _Monday Mornings_ - but all of _Close to Home_ - so it may contain some inaccuracies regarding what's coming up. I know that this pairing is most likely not what the show is going to be about, but just remember, this is going off of the pilot.

This story was written mostly because I watched _Monday Mornings_ out of morbid curiosity (after TNT killed _Leverage_) and because I rather liked Jennifer Finnigan on _Close to Home_ (as Christian Kane's wife). Here, Annabeth Chase and Tina Ridgeway are twin sisters. Why twins? Because I like crossing thing over and building intricate genealogies with actors, that's why.

Side note: Since I'm only expecting about 2 or 3 people to read this fic, if you did click, thanks!

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**Where the Grass is Greener**

Sometimes, when she comes home (late, always, always late) to a cold dinner and an even colder husband, Tina envies how supportive her sister's husband had been of Annabeth's very professional career.

They, Tina and Mom, had been fiercely critical of the long-haired construction worker with his southern twang. They'd looked at him and they'd looked at Annabeth, sleek, beautiful, _smart_ Annabeth with her eye on getting to the top positions in the DA's office, and they'd looked back at Jack again. Not good enough, they'd thought.

Not good enough. Didn't earn enough, no matter that he owned the construction company where he worked; Annabeth made more than him.

But he'd taken care of her, loved her and supported her through hard times, and when the baby had come, he had given his two girls everything he had.

Not good enough. He had been good enough, though, to Annabeth. "Too good for me," she had confided to Tina once, "I don't know what I'd do without him." And then she'd gushed and talked for an hour about her new baby and how great Jack was with her.

Tina had bitten her tongue until it bled.

She has always wanted a family. Her busy work life and irregular hours have kept Tina and Mark from having children ("until things settle down," they've always said, "until the time is right"), and now she fears that it might be too late.

Tina envies her sister's perfect life sometimes. She wants a beautiful golden-haired little girl of her own. She wants a husband who adores her and supports her. She wants it all.

And then she remembers her brother-in-law's funeral seven years ago and wonders if her broken-down home life with Mark isn't better after all.

There's something that she has had pounded into her brain all of her professional career, all through med school, her residency. You can't fix death. That's one mistake that you just can't fix, no matter how sorry you are, no matter how good a surgeon you are.

She remembers the phone call Annabeth had made to her seven years ago, telling her about Jack's sudden death in an accident. Jack, with his long hair and southern twang, Jack who was a wonderful husband and a superb father and who had finally talked Annabeth into adding on to their little family, Jack with the sense of humor that made Annabeth light up with delight. Jack was dead.

Tina, after sending what comfort she could over the thin telephone line, had turned to Mark in tears, out of fear, out of "what if" that night. He'd held her and murmured comforting words until her tears had dried, and when she was done weeping and clutching on to him, he had packed both of their bags and they had flown home to Indiana to be there for Annabeth.

Seven years later, she remembers that night, and wonders if she can't fix things with Mark. She wonders where things went wrong. She wonders if there's something wrong with her. She'd ask Annabeth, but all she would get in response is "talk to him." "Talk to him." When had talking to her husband gotten so difficult? When had they stopped sharing jokes and secret smiles? When had they fallen out of sync and out of love?

How can she fix this? She can perform the most delicate brain surgery, but she can't talk to her husband and fix her marriage.

What's wrong with her?

She closes her eyes and listens to the light snoring of her husband sleeping next to her. She shudders to remember Jack's still, pale face in the coffin, and remembers holding her sobbing sister upright all through the funeral, and resolves to make things right again with Mark.

She looks over at him, older with a little silver in his hair but still handsome, and contemplates rolling over to cuddle against him like she'd used to.

She sighs. He'll probably push her away. Push her away, like she has been pushing him away for years, more engrossed in her building career than in building a family with him.

She rolls over onto her other side and thinks, tomorrow. She'll talk to him tomorrow. It's too late tonight. Tomorrow, she'll fix things.

Her dreams are full of bloody latex gloves and death and the awful monotone of the heart monitor flatlining.

She wakes up sobbing with her husband's arms warm and tight around her.

"Mark? A boy died. A little boy. He was playing soccer two days ago, and now he's dead," she says, holding on to him, "Oh, Mark."

"Shh," he whispers into her hair, "You did the best you could. You did your best. You _are_ the best. I know you did everything you could to save him."

"He was so young."

"You did your best."

As she drifts back to sleep from sheer exhaustion, she thinks that maybe her marriage, _their_ marriage, isn't as dead as she'd thought it was. Maybe…

"Mark? I love you."

"I love you, too, Tina."

He presses a kiss to the top of her head and then there are no more dreams of blood and screaming machines. No more big brown eyes haunting her. No more death. No more fear in the pit of her stomach that she'll lose Mark like Annabeth lost Jack.

"I love you."


End file.
